The postings that you see are political in nature, and important (in my humble opinion) to our world and its future. I've been disgusted, repulsed, and in a state of revulsion ever since the Republicans reared their ugly right-wing heads and decided for once and all, that every small step taken for humankind should be eradicated. So if you find this blog biased, you're not in a minority.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

funny essay

Can somebody cure me of my straightness? It’s been a constant source of unhappiness for me, you see. Maybe somebody knows of a minister who can cure me of teh straight. Perhaps some sort of retreat would be nice. You know, with cabins, and woods, and prayer sessions around the campfire with James Dobson, then some good old gospel singing led by Donnie McClurkin.

I’ll never forget how the heterosexuals first came to recruit me...

I was just a young boy you see. My interests were American history, the effort to land a man on the moon, and watching “Lost In Space” on tv. I was as happy as a boy could be. And then she came into the picture. She was an actress, they said. She stood there in a movie poster, clad in a bikini made of fur, in front of a cave. Raquel, they said her name was. They said she was a “sex symbol.” I’d never heard that term before, but I somehow thought I knew what it meant. I was supposed to find her attractive, the recruiters had decided. She had these......these breasts, you see. They were large. From the attention they generated I got the impression that this had a lot to do with why she was called a sex symbol, and why I was supposed to find her attractive. Then I noticed that this Raquel woman had accomplices. There was a record album my family had up on the shelf: “Whipped Cream & Other Delights,” it was called, by Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass. On the cover was this woman, this naked woman embedded in a giant pile of whipped cream. She was entirely covered in whipped cream. Well, not quite entirely. She had these....these breasts, you see. These large breasts. For some reason this time I didn’t have to be told that the woman in the whipped cream was a sex symbol. I felt stirrings in parts of my body that had never stirred before. I was shaken. I was shaken and stirred! I knew that the heteros had got me. They had recruited me to be one of them! And since then my heterosexuality has been nothing but a source of unhappiness to me. A nearly endless parade of broken hearts and indigo gonads. Time and again I would fall in love with a woman, only to learn that she didn’t love me. I was crushed! Or occasionally a woman would seem to fall in love with me, or at least come close enough to want to see where things would lead. For a time I’d be ecstatically happy. But then, “issues” would appear. Incompatibilities. Infidelities. Oh yes, I discovered that heteros are notoriously fickle. They “play the field.” I was told that these people of the opposite sex were “just like streetcars” because another one would “be along in a few minutes.” I was also told that they were in some bizarre way like “fish,” because there were “plenty” of them “in the sea.” And you would not believe how they divorce! I swear they don’t know the meaning of monogomy. Oh the pain my heterosexuality was causing me! Today, all these many years later. my sexuality still makes me unhappy. I cannot turn on the TV without seeing Halle Berry. Once again I am shaken and stirred, but with no hope of ever doing anything about it. I change the channel and there is Salma Hayek. Another channel brings me Tina Fey....now my mind is being stimulated too! I'll never be able to, as our President puts it, "practice my love" on these women. There is no escape from the agony of this frustration! So please, with all these godly men out there who claim they can change a person’s sexuality, isn’t there somebody who can cure me of my straightness? I’m not asking that they cure all the straight people, mind you, just the unhappy ones, like me.Would a laying on of hands help? Would it help if the hands belonged to George Clooney?